The Balancer
by MUSEWITHME
Summary: A new perspective. A new challenge. We only see through the eyes of the Hunters, but what of views of the other creatures? The Supernatural? A balance is in order.  Not a good summary person, but story should be decent!
1. death is hard

Uhm, not much to say here…this is simply an opener. A prologue…Updating will be slow because I'm preparing to travel abroad on Tuesday, and on Tuesday I'll be gone to Russia. I'm unsure how much time I'll have to update this…but I hope I catch a few fans! ;)

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><p><strong>This is the story of how I die…<strong>

Death is such a hard thing to write about. Chuck tapped lightly on the keyboard's keys as he readjusted his glasses and reached for the glass of cheap whiskey on the desk. He eyed the sentence that acted as the opener to his new book—_The Balancer_. This one was going to take the Supernatural fans for a spin. It was a sort of side story to the actual plotline, but one that the Archangel had shown him to write out to the world. Those who only wished to hear about Sam and Dean were going to feel disappointment with this, Chuck knew, but he had no other choice.

_As long as I make enough to live till the next book, then I should be fine. _Chuck thought before downing his whiskey.

It was possible that this book would become even more of a hit than some of the others. When Chuck had revealed that The Trickster was, in fact, Gabriel the fan base had gone nuts. His reappearance in the new book might keep it going. Chuck was unsure how the fandom was going to take a Supernatural book…from the new perspective of a demon. Granted, this wasn't just some run-of-the-mill demon. At least, from what he'd seen so far.

It was still odd that it had become his job to write this when he was only supposed to write about things concerning Sam and Dean Winchester. He was writing the "Winchester Gospel", or so he was told. His blue eyes trailed to the title and he mauled over it. The Balancer…a balance in what, perspective…? He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut at the oncoming migraine. He was going to need that vodka bottle he'd claimed earlier. The whiskey wasn't going to cut it this time.

The loud clacking of the keys picked up as Chuck continued his new work. The new vision was well on its way and he felt a slight determination to get as much written of what he'd already seen before gaining more material. This was going to be a long, long night…and Chuck was so not prepared.

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><p>Yes, quite short...but just a prologue, again.<p> 


	2. where is your god?

Well, folks, here's the first, real chapter! I'm not much of a first-person writer, so please bear with me. I'll be improving and editing things as I go. For now, enjoy the show!

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><p><strong>where is your god?<strong>

_One never expects to find anything undyingly important in a graveyard. To most individuals, a graveyard is that creepy place where one's relatives are buried and soon forgotten because of everyone's busy, more important, lives. I mean, a dead relative is just that…dead. Because of this view, most graveyards are nearly perpetually abandoned. So it was a surprise when one would stumble upon an obsidian-eyed, Japanese woman with the blackest hair one had probably ever seen honoring the graves. Some might think she was eerie, and others why such a pretty girl was wasting her time tending to those already in the afterlife. No one, though, would stop to think …that maybe this particular woman was of great importance…_

All was quiet in the resting place of the dead. My footsteps were light, respectful to those that sleep six feet under the ground. There was something about graveyards that was simply peaceful. I could not explain it. Most viewed graveyards as something of darkness, ghosts, ghouls, and mourning. They didn't realize how nice they actually were, and how nice the afterlife could truly be. Mortals were afraid to die; this was a fact.

I paused near a fancy headstone shaped as an angelic being in prayer. It looked elegant in itself. The way the stone was so smoothly carved, and how it curved into its shape so artistically. The sculpture had its head bowed down with its hands pressed together and fingertips lightly touching its forehead—a typical depiction of posture for prayer. Its wings were unfurled and spread back to reveal its full length, though they were much too small compared to a real angel's. The proper wing span of an angel was twice the length of their body. Honestly, I never wanted to meet one. Angels terrified me.

Sometimes in the graveyard I'd see ghosts. They would wallow around in their sorrow being unable to leave Earth. The way they dragged their feet against the ground and hung their head almost made me sympathetic. If I were to claim them they'd go straight down to Hell without passing Go or collecting two hundred dollars. It was best if some angel or human found them and assisted them in their passage. That is, if they wanted a mindless life in Heaven. I couldn't imagine being there. I asked too many questions, and questions led to problems with the angels. The angels didn't question their God. It was best that I was a simple Crossroads demon instead.

_Humans who die don't return as angels_, I reminded myself as my fingertips grazed over a smooth, cool headstone. There was no headstone for Amanda. The girl had been buried in a sacred place—hallowed ground that I could not cross onto. It nearly broke my heart that I couldn't even visit the grave of the one I formerly felt so attached to. It had been hundreds and hundreds of years since I'd last seen the girl. I knew that she was somewhere in Heaven. Amanda had been the stereotypical view of an angel without truly being one. A human with a kind, compassionate heart and tolerance for all—even me.

An aching in my chest caused me to cast the thoughts away. I hated to think about Amanda. I also hated to think about Isaak. My pale, slim fingers moved up to my left cheek and grazed over the strange, red marking. It had appeared there after I'd killed him. I hadn't a clue why. I figured it was a curse of some sort.

I continued deeper into the large graveyard. It was cold this morning. The dew felt nice against my bare feet as I walked. If God was such a benevolent kind of deity, then why had he allowed someone as innocent as Amanda to die so early? If I hadn't sold her soul to the Devil, then Amanda would've been dead at a mere 10-years-old. The girl had never done anything wrong. She had been an orphan, like myself, and unwanted. Her sweet disposition had brightened the old, poor orphanage in a way that no one else could. It just felt wrong for the Christian God to so selfishly allow her to die. I stopped before a headstone and gazed up at the sky.

"Why, then?" I shouted, "Why did you let an innocent girl die so young, hmm?" My eyes grew darker while my teeth clenched, "I wish someone would tell me why!" If that didn't summon some smartass angel to try and lecture me on the "ways of God", then nothing would.

"Sweetheart, you know shouting at the sky doesn't really work, right?" A voice responded. "If you think the moon is gonna start talking to you and giving you answers to your questions, then you'd best take your meds."

It was one thing when one talked to the Heavens and was alone. It was another when someone actually decided to _answer_ the single-person conversation. Here I was thinking I was simply enjoying an angst moment alone when _BAM_! A voice. I was, needless to say, startled. I hadn't sensed anyone approaching me, or anyone in the area, for that matter. I turned to face the newcomer, who snickered and placed a hand in his pocket before casually leaning on a side. He was a sort of handsome fellow, I'd shamelessly admit. The only problem was he wasn't quite human, or something nonthreatening to me. In fact, I didn't know _what_ he was. I just knew he wasn't human and that he could probably melt her on the spot if he wanted to. The question was—did he want to?

I regarded him warily and took a hesitant step back. "It wasn't like I was looking for answers. Heaven never answers the likes of me. I'm sure they'd rather send me back under the ground than answer my questions. Besides…" my dark eyes shifted around cautiously, "I didn't think anyone else was here."

With a tilt of my head I began to feel curious. On the inside my heart was fluttering against my chest. The last thing I wanted was to get involved with something supernatural again. To do that would get me drug right back into the drama I'd wanted to escape. Still, this guy was interesting. There was something about him that caught my attention, and I supposed that was the mysteriousness surrounding his race.

"Who are you, anyways? Why are you out here in the graveyard so early in the morning? I hope you're not trying to raise the dead. We have enough trouble around anymore as it is…" My lips curled into a slight, teasing smile. It was hard to not try to be friendly. I hadn't spoken to another person in a bit, and I was feeling quite lonely. It was strange to think of a demon as lonely. I always figured most demons were emotionless. The feelings I'd experienced after returning from Hell had to have been a trigger to my eccentric ways. Then again, I didn't know why I'd be that special. I just brushed the assumption off as one of her many odd musings.

"Unfortunately, I'm not here to raise the dead," his eyes twinkled playfully. "That's not until _next_ weekend." His smirk turned into a friendly grin. He took a few steps closer and his expression slowly brightened further. "The name's Loki."

He was funny. I liked funny people. They were usually not so bad to hang around with. Though, his name was the name of the Norse God's. He didn't seem like a God, but who knew? It wouldn't be the first time I'd made that mistake. This Loki guy didn't seem all that bad. Actually, he looked like he was willing to even be friendly with her.

I allowed myself to give him a good once-over now that I could get a better look. Oh, he was definitely _not_ ugly. What was it with beings needing vessels to always grab the cuties? I had settled for my own body as a vessel; I didn't think I looked too bad. It hadn't really mattered much to me either way. The men I hooked up with usually were either drunk or didn't care who they slept with. What could I say? I like sex. I wouldn't sleep with any old Joe—they obviously had to be good-looking and catch my attention—but it wasn't like I had a lover to turn to specifically. Another good question was where all this thought about sex was coming from.

I pushed the thoughts in the back of my mind and shook my head. That was for another place and time. Loki here was attractive, but they'd just met and were in a _graveyard_. It wasn't the ideal place for flirting. "Well, if you're not going to smite me or anything, then I might as well give you my name. You can call me Yin."

"Hey there, Yin! I'm sorry if I startled you, but I couldn't help but overhear your pleadings with the douchebags of Heaven." He winked in a charming manner before dropping his guard and becoming more comfortable. "A demon praying…I've never heard of _that_ one before." His head cocked to the side and his lips pursed thoughtfully for a split second, then he quickly looked back at me and added, "by the way, you can call me Gabe. The humans take a liking to that name better. We can't all go around calling me The Trickster!"

Gabe? Like _Gabriel_? Well, he'd appeared while I was questioning the Heavens…no…no, stop that. That was a ridiculous assumption. Gabe was obviously the name Loki went by with humans so they didn't give him weird looks. There weren't many humans named Loki in the world. The fact the name resembled an archangel of the Lord was pure coincidence. Angels didn't give me the time of day—especially archangels. I laughed softly, "Gabe…that's a nice name. It has a lovely ring to it…I like it." My hand swept over a headstone that read "_Isaak Lebedev, died in 1970 and forever missed_." Another ache formed in my chest, "I have a lot to say to Heaven, you know. There are people who I hope they're caring for."

My expression was serious. I wanted to make it clear that just because I was a demon now didn't mean I hadn't had loved ones in my past. I noticed that he was continuing to inch closer and closer to me. In a way, I thought it was cute. I loved this sort of game. My feet led me a few steps closer to him as I decided to play along. The fact we were getting more comfortable with each other gave me some hope. Tonight might be a good night after all.

"So, what are you doing in a gloomy ol' graveyard like this?" asked Loki. He seemed slightly surprised as the two stood directly in front of each other and he found that they stood at exactly the same height. His surprise flashed to a brief flicker of disappointment before disappearing completely and going back to that natural smirk he carried. "Do you come here often?"

The question on the graveyard threw me off. My lips went firm into a firm line and my gaze downcast toward the headstone as I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. A soft sigh escaped my lips, "well, truthfully, I was visiting a grave. It was meant to be nostalgic and all, but then you popped in and suddenly it's fun. Congrats." I gestured to the grave, "this is…well, his name was Isaak. Isaak Lebedev. I met him in Russia back in the 1950s after World War II." I hesitated, "but, I don't think you want to hear my sob story. I'll just leave it at that."

This graveyard felt suffocating as the atmosphere took a shift in mood. The discomfort of being here was closing in on me and encasing me. My weight shifted from away from the grave I had just pointed out and I just wanted to get away. I wanted to run and hide. Suddenly, I was unwelcome in this place of the dead. Looking at Loki, I took a quick step forward and grasped his hands into my own. I didn't know him very well. Hell, we'd only just met. But I was willing to trust him just this once.

"Hey…take me somewhere. Anywhere you want to go. You go and I'll follow you." It was somewhat embarrassing to just blurt this out. I felt like I was being desperate, and maybe I was. _Some demon I am_ was my sarcastic thought as I gazed into his hazel eyes. My voice lowered, "just take me anywhere but here."

The sudden grabbing of his hands had put him off-guard. Loki watched me like he was trying to figure me out. I was some strange puzzle he didn't quite understand, and that could be a good or bad thing. Finally, he squeezed back gently on my hands and smiled, "sure thing, cutie cakes."

Loki began to walk. He led me toward the cemetery gates with a sort of skip to his step, and he never let go of my hand. Our hands swayed between us like some new couple who'd just had a great first date. Funny, I might like him more if that was his idea of a first date. A small, amused grin came to my face. I liked holding his hand; it was rare I held hands with anyone. It's like the stereotypical depiction of teenage couples nowadays. I'd been born in the 1600s and raised in a Catholic orphanage in Scotland. Yeah…I hadn't got to do all those fun, teenage things.

"So…" Loki glanced over at me with a sparkle in his eyes, "did you escape from prison? Because it should be illegal to look that good."

A corny pick-up line…a perfect mood lifter. The two of us burst into laughter. It'd been a while since I'd genuinely laughed. It felt good.

"If I answer yes, are you going to return me or keep me to yourself? I'm telling you now that I'm quite a catch!"

Our laughter died down as we reached the gates and Loki made one last look over his shoulder. A shudder ran through his body, but I couldn't tell why. Graveyards must've just been creepy to him.

"How about a drink?" He purred as we exited and he led me down the street, now swinging our arms. "I hear a place down the street has the best martinis in town…not to mention THE hottest dancers known to man."

My brow rose with bemusement, "a drink this early in the morning? Is the place even open?" Despite my question I nodded and smiled broadly, "I'd love to have a drink with you, Gabe. It sounds like a blast." It'd also relieve the loneliness and despair of the graveyard that still clung to my skin like a disease. Drinking it off and partying with a newfound companion sounded just the way to spend the day. I flipped my hair in a feigned dramatic manner and scoffed at his mention of the dancers. "Oh _please_. I'm sure they have _nothing_ on me."

_One never knows who they may find in the world. For the Crossroads demon, Yin Izumi, she wouldn't realize for a while that she'd just stumbled upon an Archangel named Gabriel. What Yin also wouldn't realize is that she'd also just started the domino effect in her life that'd eventually lead to her downfall…_

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><p>And that's the end. Comments? Questions? Etc? )<p> 


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